Heart of Black Ice

CHAPTER 36

Once the group descended out of the rugged mountains beyond Kol Adair, Nathan felt heartened. General Zimmer led the horses at a faster pace across the now-fertile valley. “On this terrain, we can get even farther ahead of the enemy army.”

Nathan rocked in his saddle as the horse moved alongside the prelate. “The sooner we get to Cliffwall, the more defenses we will be able to create.”

Verna mused, “The scholars have been cataloging the materials for years, and the memmers are sorting the vital missing pieces. By now they must have found many books containing deadly spells.”

Nathan looked across the bowl-shaped valley, remembering what it had been not long ago. Those lakes and streams, the green expanses, the lush trees, had been devastation for as far as he could see: cracked dry terrain, volcanic glass, broken fissures, all caused by the Lifedrinker, a hapless gifted student who had triggered more magic than he could handle. “It’s not finding the deadly spells I’m worried about, my dear prelate. It is controlling the awful magic that can be released.”

Verna looked doubtfully at the verdant landscape in front of her. “I know the stories about the Lifedrinker, but Victoria restored all the vegetation with a rejuvenation spell she found in the archives. Wasn’t the world saved because of her?”

Nathan clucked his tongue. “Dear spirits, who told you such nonsense? Victoria was as dangerous as the Lifedrinker, but in a different way! She also triggered a spell she didn’t understand, and her explosive vegetation would have engulfed the world. We stopped her only at a terrible, terrible cost.” His heart suddenly beat harder, as if Ivan’s dark remnants relished the painful memory. “The poor girl Thistle sacrificed her heart’s blood to give Nicci the weapon she needed.”

His long white hair blew about his shoulders as he stared toward the desert highlands where they would find Cliffwall. “Even if we do find powerful spells, will we be strong enough and wise enough to use them properly? That is what worries me the most.”

The maze of canyons had hidden Cliffwall for millennia. The young scholars Oliver and Peretta now led the way, eager to get back home. The horses clattered along the stony floor of the wide entry canyon. Ahead, the towering tan walls closed together into what looked like a dead end, but it was merely an optical illusion, with a hidden gap wide enough for two horses to travel side by side.

The party worked their way through the gap, turned left then sharply right, and emerged into a wide sheltered canyon that looked like a paradise.

Captain Trevor, the leader of the remaining Ildakaran escort guards, let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t know how we ever found this in the first place. Our party was staggering, weak, starving. We thought that Renn had led us astray.”

Oron looked around him in amazement. “If the knowledge here is as extensive as you suggest, then we will find some way to defeat General Utros.”

“In that case,” Leo said, “the final result justifies all sacrifices.”

Lady Olgya’s face pinched in a bitter expression. “Says a man who has made no sacrifices! You didn’t even have a wife or family in Ildakar. What have you lost? My son was killed by those soldiers!”

Oron grumbled, “As was mine.”

Nathan didn’t comment, since those two young men, Jed and Brock, had been despicable people who had caused Bannon great pain. But grieving parents would remember a child however they wished.

He raised his voice as they rode into the Cliffwall canyon. “The important thing is that General Utros and his army must never find this place. Cliffwall’s greatest defense is its camouflage. Those thousands of enemy soldiers are on a forced march, and no doubt starving. They should walk right past these canyons.”

“Then we could spring a trap,” said Perri, the youngest of the gifted defenders from Ildakar. “If we can figure out how.” She had been a shaper back in the city, manipulating trees and vines into interesting topiary shapes. Her gift, though powerful, was likely too subtle to be useful in any large-scale attack against General Utros.

“The Cliffwall records may suggest dozens of new methods of attack,” Verna said. “We could create a powerful gifted army of our own.”

As they proceeded forward, Nathan drank in the view. A stream ran along the canyon floor, flanked by fruit and nut orchards. Sheep grazed in open meadows, and terraced gardens lined the steep hillsides. People tending their flocks, working in their gardens, and fishing in the stream all looked up to watch the party enter the canyon.

The high, sheer walls were pocked with natural alcoves and overhangs, some of which held a personal dwelling or two. The largest overhang held a veritable city of knowledge. High up the cliff wall, a grotto contained buildings made of adobe and hardened brick, some structures so tall they reached to the curved rock ceiling. Stonemasons had added beautiful ornamentation on the façades and carved archways over the grand doors of the main archive.

Oron shaded his eyes and peered at the vertical cliff with a skeptical expression. “How do we get up there? Is that supposed to be a path?”

“There are stone steps, narrow but safe,” Oliver said. “You can climb them, if you have no fear.”

Peretta added, “And anyone who is afraid should not look in the books and scrolls stored there.”

Oron let out a snort in response to the implied insult.

They dismounted at the base of the cliff beneath the great alcove, and General Zimmer’s soldiers led the horses away to join the soldiers who had remained camped in the canyon to guard the archive.

Nathan set off up the steep zigzagging path chiseled into the sheer stone. He adjusted his sword so that it hung on the opposite hip as he climbed the precarious trail. Not only did he look forward to studying the ancient documents, but he also wanted to patch and clean his clothes, repair a crack in his boots, and replace his frayed laces with new ones.

Verna toiled up the path behind him. When they finally reached the alcove high above the canyon floor, Nathan paused to rest, breathing hard.

Several Cliffwall scholars came running out to greet the returning party. “Nathan! And Prelate Verna!”

He recognized Gloria, the matronly leader of the memmers, who had committed every word of countless written volumes to memory. She was a round-faced woman with short dark hair in an unattractive cut. Beside her walked Scholar-Archivist Franklin, a studious, serious man in charge of all the students inside Cliffwall.

The Sisters of the Light who had stayed behind also emerged from the main building. “You’ve returned,” said Mab, one of the Sisters. “You’ve been to Ildakar, and now you’re back. Tell us what you saw.”

Another Sister, Arabella, asked, “Was Ildakar as grand as Renn claimed? Where is he? Did he stay behind?”

Nathan drew a deep breath. “We have a tale to tell indeed, but I’m afraid it is not good news. Once more, we must search the knowledge in Cliffwall in order to defend the whole world.”